Before Kami
by Klarkakent
Summary: Possessing remarkable physical strength and empowered with a host of other abilities due to his unique Namekian biology, Piccolo fights a never-ending battle to protect the Earth from those who would do it harm. The Nameless Namekian's life story, from landing to splitting.
1. Chapter 1

**Year 242, Yunzabit Heights**

A hundred meters over the Yunzabit Heights, a large, ovular spaceship reduced its speed in preparation for landing. Inside, a green child listened intently to a voice coming out of a speaker in front of his seat.

"Passenger," the machine crackled in Namekian, "You will arrive at Earth in 60 seconds. You must stay here for at least three years. After that, you will be permitted to go back to Namek, as the drought will most likely have ended by then."

The young Namekian eagerly stood up from his seat, hopping up on his chair to get a closer view. It looked almost like the database pictures of Namek. Like Namek, it was a hilly area with many large plateaus. However, everything seemed to be the wrong color. The grass was green and the sky was black. Furthermore, there didn't appear to be a sun on this planet, and there were no lakes in sight.

The ship's lights automatically lit up, and a sleeping herd of yaks was illuminated. The noise of the ship's thrusters woke them up, and they fled the area. The green child in the ship leaned forward to get a better look. He put his hands on the dashboard of the ship, unwittingly mashing the controls.

"Danger. Danger," the speakers crackled, "Ship thrusters turned off. Landing in 3."

The Namekian got back in his chair.

"Two"

He reached for his seatbelt, but fumbled.

"One"

He cowered in his seat, covering his head and hoping he didn't die.

As the spaceship crashed down on its landing gear, the impact propelled the Namekian child out of his chair, through the window, and onto the ground. He landed on the side of his head and drove two meters through the grass until coming to a halt. The Namekian felt a splitting pain before passing out.

A young green child woke up in a gash of dirt with a horrible headache and not the faintest idea of where, who, or why he was. Upon seeing the egg where the gash in the earth pointed to, he stumbled to his feet and limped away in terror of the monster lying before him.

Wobbling as he walked, the green boy tried to make sense of his surroundings. Without any memories, he was solely using his instincts. 'Pain bad,' he thought. He cleared his throat and said, "Need liquid. Where is liquid?" As he walked further and the pain receded, he added another thought to his collection. 'It's too cold', he realized as he walked further. 'I wish it was warmer.' As he went even further from the monster egg, he began to notice something on his bare leg besides the cold. A feel that was somehow making the cold even less tolerable. He racked his damaged brain for a moment, before he decided that what he felt was what he was searching for. 'Water, water,' he thought joyfully.

It was a small stream of clear flowing water that he felt. The little green boy had waded halfway into the stream before his pain had subsided by enough to feel the water. He got down on his hands and knees, wincing at secondary pains in his elbow, knee, and hip. However, his instincts prevailed over the pain, and he put his head down to lap up the water. He put his left knee in front of him and pushed to move back to an upright position. As he got up, however, a sharp pain in his left knee materialized, thwarting his plans to stand. With his knee still throbbing, and his head still spinning, he summoned all his remaining strength to roll to the other side of the river. Once he was out of the water, he passed out again.

When he woke up, the green boy saw a warm-looking light in the blue sky, almost right above him. While it was not as cold as it had been when he passed out, it was still chilly, and his wet clothes did not help. On the plus side, the pain in the knee felt much less sharp, and his head was throbbing instead of spinning now. The green boy took his clothes off and lay them gently on the grass to dry them out. After that, he took another long gulp of water. While he drank, he noticed something else about his environment: It was windy. The wind blew past him, chilling his bones and making his flesh vibrate. He looked at his clothes, but fortunately, they were too wet to be blown away by the wind. 'Shelter,' he thought.

For the entire day, the green boy scraped a hole in the hard, rocky earth with his bare hands. By the time it was finished, the sun was low in the sky and he was bored. 'What to do?' he thought, looking around for a distraction. He noticed a goat nibbling on grass on the other side of the alpine meadow, and proceeded to imitate it. The grass tasted horrible, but he evidently needed to eat it. After all, the thing in front of him was. In fact, he now noticed that there were some more goats doing the same thing. When he lifted his head, one of the goats stared at him. When he put his head back down to the grass, they did the same.

When the goats eventually moved away from the meadow, the green boy followed it, taking his now-dry clothes with him. He felt the need to stay with the other living being for safety. When the goat lay down to rest, he nestled down next to it, to shelter from the wind. Once he was comfortably situated, his mind wandered, and he began to ponder who he was.

'Everything surrounding me feels weird. The grass doesn't look right, the sky doesn't look right. I must eat grass here, but all I really feel like eating is water. I look completely different from the life here. I don't have hooves or fur or horns, like everyone else. It's almost like I'm from another world…'

He recalled a word in Namekian that fit him perfectly.

'Piccolo.'


	2. Chapter 2

For two whole years, Piccolo and the goats roamed the Yunzabit Heights. Piccolo protected his herd from wolves and snow leopards, and started to understand the goats' language. It was a primitive language with only nouns and prepositions. While Piccolo eventually learned to comprehend the language, he couldn't speak it because he didn't have the ability to sound out the words.

One day, Piccolo was taking a bunch of berries off of a bush (he found they tasted much better than grass) when he heard a cry from the goat farthest from him. "Danger. Danger beside plateau; behind bush," she bleated.

Piccolo took a look at the source of danger. It was two swarthy men wearing long gray coats and gray, flat-topped hats. One of them was wearing white pants, but the other was dressed in all gray. White pants was holding a large stick with a long black cylinder on top, and gray had a large knife drawn. As gray's weapon looked more dangerous, Piccolo decided to go for him first.

As the green boy prepared to attack, gray noticed an obviously ungoatlike figure among the herd. He pointed to him and whispered to his partner, "Hey Sandesh, it's a monster. Didn't you say earlier there's a bounty on those?"

"I don't see it, Yash," he whispered back.

Yash pointed even harder, "No, it's right – There!" Piccolo suddenly pounced onto him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He held on to the man in all gray, clawing at his face. Sandesh raised his musket and brought the butt down on Piccolo's head. Piccolo turned away from Yash's bloody face and snarled. The man in the white pants backed away, holding his gun out in front of him.

"G-get back, monster! Leave us alone!" he yelled. The green man didn't seem to comprehend his words.

Yash opened his eyes. His face was covered with blood, but he was too mad to feel the wounds. He saw the green monster inching toward his friend, and grabbed his knife again. He yelled and rushed towards him with his knife. When Yash got to the monster, he stabbed it in the back and punched its shoulder.

Piccolo yelled and turned to face his opponent. He tackled the man in gray in the hip, bringing him crashing down to the ground. His opponent screamed in pain, and Piccolo punched him in the mouth. Both of them clenched their teeth, but the human in gray smirked. With Piccolo's fist no longer holding his arm, Yash was able to reach and grab his knife. He slashed Piccolo's left arm right below the elbow. This time, Piccolo screamed.

Meanwhile, Sandesh flipped his musket around to shooting position. "Hey Yash! Get out of the way so I can shoot!" he yelled.

"Okay," Yash replied. He slashed Piccolo's face twice, and then rolled on top of him. Yash got on all fours on top of the monster and kneed it in the side. He then got back up and out of the way.

"Well?" Sandesh asked the green man, "Are you going to go or do I have to shoot you?"

Piccolo got up in a rage. How dare they pose a danger and try to live! He was just about to charge at the one in white pants, when he heard a boom come from the strange stick he was holding. Then he felt it. A small ball went through his shoulder, and he collapsed again.

His shooter stood a few feet away from him and wiped off his face. "Whoa! That was unexpected. Yash, I think we need to go back to the village. Get those gashes on your face fixed up," he said.

Yash was starting to feel the pain. "What about the bounty?" he groaned.

Sandesh shook his head, "No, unless you want to carry him."

"But I don't want to come away from this hunt with nothing to show for it."

"Yeah, but that thing wakes up, it could kill someone. Now come on, we need to go back to the village. We'll see if I can find any more game on the way back," Sandesh said.

The two hunters walked away from Piccolo's now barely conscious form. Piccolo was quite alive, but in no condition to keep fighting the hunters. Watching them leave, he silently swore his rage and hatred at the two.


	3. Chapter 3

Once the hunters were out of sight, Piccolo took a knee and lifted his body upright. The two-legged people had done a lot of damage, and the rest of his herd had fled. With no other options, he went back to the shelter he had dug the first day of his life. The hole in his shoulder was oozing purple blood, and his face and forearm stung, almost like a thousand wasps had assembled in three lines and each injected him with their stingers, not all at once but over the course of a few seconds. When he got there, however, the situation became worse.

The shelter had eroded almost to the point of collapse, and couldn't be used. Instead, Piccolo rested outside, occasionally drinking water and eating grass. 'What a mess I'm in,' he thought. 'I don't have any idea where the others are, and I don't have shelter. At least I don't feel the gash in my forearm anymore. Actually, I can't feel anywhere on my left arm. Come to think about it, I can't feel my right arm either … or my legs.' Piccolo knew low temperatures, but he had never felt this cold before. Almost every night in his life, he had rested with his herd. Nights were far less cold with a goat laying right next to you. Now, however, there was no one to lean against. Piccolo was relying solely on his own body heat to stay warm. His limbs were growing colder by the second, and he steadily became more aware of how cold he was as the shock from his wound dissipated.

Piccolo tried to curl up in a ball and cover more of himself with his clothing, but to no avail. His clothes had many holes in them from wear and tear, and they did not protect him well at all. Piccolo clenched further. He tried to get his body to make heat faster, to focus his strength into warmth. This was unsuccessful, and he took a moment to plead to anything he could think of to grant him warmth. "Help please… anything... don't let me die…," he prayed, "friends… two-legged people… monster egg… anyone, don't let me die!"

Not feeling any warmer afterwards, Piccolo sat down, looked straight ahead, and determined to face death with some dignity. He tried not to think about the cold currently killing him. With nothing else to think about, he emptied his mind of all thought. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with the spark of realization. Piccolo concentrated his energy into his core and head, raising his temperature back to his comfort zone. Gradually, he extended his energy into his limbs. Although Piccolo winced after regaining feeling in his left forearm, shortly afterwards he smiled.

He would never be cold again.

In the three years following, Piccolo grew to well over two meters tall. He also moved down the stream, to an area with many berry bushes. It was a better place to live; Piccolo was sick of only grass to eat. He dug another shelter there, and spent his days in a mixture of contemplation and exploration. While he stumbled across several herds of yak, sheep, or goats during those three years, he never found his old herd. So, for the time being, Piccolo stayed put.

In his fourth year away from the herd, there was a terrible drought. The stream by Piccolo's shelter dried up, and the vegetation started to die all throughout the Yunzabit Heights.

Piccolo looked over the edge of a plateau. It seemed that he had searched the entire Yunzabit Heights for water, but there wasn't any, not even a puddle. He was thirsty. The last time he'd had a drink was before the stream dried up. The grass was brown, and there was no wildlife in sight. He'd thought that with this view, he would be able to see a puddle or even a creek, but it was useless. His throat was parched, his muscles felt weak, and nothing looked in focus. "Maybe on the other side of that hill over there?" he said to himself. Piccolo sat on the edge of the plateau and slid down, tripping at the bottom of the slope. After getting back up, he set off to the hill in the distance, hoping there was water there.

As he climbed up the hill, Piccolo felt his strength slipping away. His muscles creaked and groaned merely under the stress of walking. As he went up further, he noticed a small cliff in his path, about 3 meters high at the most. Piccolo jumped to grab the ledge, but he missed and his torso crashed into the cliff and was scraped on the rocks. Fortunately, his foot hit a foothold, and he heaved his body up over the ledge. He looked up, and he thought he could see the summit. The entire field of his vision was blurry, but there definitely wasn't anything but sky over the top of the hill. The only thing between him and the top was one boulder flow. Gritting his teeth, Piccolo ran towards the boulders. He plunged his foot onto the first boulder, yet his foot didn't hit anything. Instead, it fell through a crack between two boulders. His leg was too wide to fit in, so the boulders skinned his calves, sending pain and adrenaline to Piccolo's brain. He pulled out his leg, focused his vision, and ran up the boulder flow. This time, he didn't trip or fall through.

When Piccolo got to the top, he saw a large puddle at the bottom of the hill. He quickly ran down the hill and reached the puddle. The area apparently used to be a lake, but now there was just a dry, cracked bed of clay with a large puddle in the middle. Piccolo was feeling exhausted and dizzy after running down the hill, but soon he wouldn't be. Then he noticed something. Two white quadrupeds on the edge of the puddle were drinking up the water from the puddle. Piccolo seethed. How dare these things drink my water! Suddenly, he knew what had to be done.

Piccolo roared and lunged at the white animals. They bleated and fell to the ground. Piccolo bit into one of their necks and sunk his claws into the animal's side. They bleated again and lay silent. As the blood seeped out of the animals, Piccolo kneeled next to the puddle and started to drink. The water tasted horrible, and increasingly salty as the animal's blood flowed into it, but Piccolo couldn't get enough of it. He lapped the water until there was no more. After he had drunk it all, he licked the clay. His vision focused, his muscles felt strong again, and his mind cleared. Piccolo looked at the animal, now only one, and tears formed in his eyes. The animal was a goat. More specifically, it was one of the goats that raised him.

'I can't go on like this. I just killed my friend. I need to get away from this place,' he thought as he looked down at the landscape below the Heights.

And so, Piccolo left the Yunzabit Heights, in search of food, water, and continued sanity.


	4. Chapter 4

Piccolo didn't know of any place beyond Yunzabit Heights, so he decided to pick a direction and simply walk until he found a good shelter. He wanted a warm place, and he wanted a place where there would be plenty of food and water. Piccolo thought back to the hunters that had pushed him out of his herd years ago. He remembered that when they left, they went south – or possibly another direction. It was a long time ago. Nevertheless, there had to be something in that direction. "South it is," he thought out loud.

Piccolo looked at the sun overhead. It was the afternoon, so he knew where west was. From that, he got east. 'So which way is south?' he thought. Piccolo couldn't think of a way to tell, and he stamped his feet on the clay in frustration. Suddenly, he had an idea. He would climb the hill again, and see which direction looked the best. So, he ran back up the hill. It was harder to climb up than down, but for Piccolo, it felt easier because he wasn't thirsty anymore. Once he got to the top, he looked at his surroundings.

This was the first time Piccolo had really taken in the scenery. Most of the time, he was either holed up in his little section of land, or he was exploring the meadows. Sure, those could be beautiful in their own right, but they didn't have a view. The only word Piccolo could think of to describe the view he saw from on top of the hill was, "Amazing." To the east and west, the Yunzabit Heights continued, a patchwork of hills, scrubby forests, and meadows. Most of it was brown, but it was still majestic. Perpendicular to the east-west axis, there were two radically different sights. In one direction, the mountains rose much higher than anything in Yunzabit. They were almost completely white, and he couldn't see any vegetation there. 'Not that way,' Piccolo thought. So he looked the other way – he decided to call that south, as the hunters couldn't have come from the "north".

In that direction was an enormous forest of dark green fir trees. This was interspersed with small, terraced clearings and stands of oak, birch, and cypress trees. Further down the slope, the fir mixed in with oak to form a speckled blanket of shades of green. Even further down, the oak trees formed a blanket of light green stretching to the edge of his vision. The terraced clearings became increasingly larger and denser down the slope, but the forest was still dominant. Riverbeds snaked down from the heights, widening as they descended the slope.

Piccolo immediately decided that he would go south. He walked down the hill, pausing at the bottom. 'I should follow one of the riverbeds,' he thought. 'That should lead me to water'. Piccolo ran to the edge of the edge of the Yunzabit Heights. It was quite far, and he was panting by the time he got to the edge. Piccolo realized that he had missed something on top of the hill. There was a large cliff, about 10 meters high, between the forest and the meadow.

Piccolo turned left and walked alongside the cliff. He remembered that there had been a riverbed not too far in this direction. After he reached the riverbed, Piccolo crouched on the side of the cliff. A small trickle ran in the riverbed, falling off of the cliff and into a small pond that flowed out deeper into the forest. There were several trees reaching up to the top of the cliff. Piccolo grabbed the top of one and attempted to shimmy down. However, the top of the tree was too light to support his weight, and the tree bent forward, catching itself on a tree branch. Piccolo's legs slipped from the tree and dangled several meters in the air. Piccolo pulled himself up. Right when his chin reached the thin top of the tree trunk, the trunk snapped.

Piccolo plummeted to the ground. It was so unexpected that he couldn't brace himself, only close his eyes. His feet hit the ground first, impacting the soil with a thud. His knees gave in, and his rear hit the ground second. Next his back slammed to the ground, followed by the back of his head. Piccolo opened his eyes and stared at the branch-strewn sky. How could something so big be so fragile? He was only a few meters from his old home, but already things were different.

Piccolo continued following the course of the riverbed. After a half a day of walking, the riverbed joined up with another one, also carrying a small trickle. It still wasn't good enough. The river didn't have enough water in it at this point, and there was nothing to eat but leaves and grass. So, Piccolo continued onward.

Once night fell, Piccolo made camp beside the river. He dug a shallow hole under a bush as a temporary shelter from the nightly cold. There was no food and little water nearby, so he had to conserve his energy. That meant taking shelter from the cold and wind rather than use his energy to warm himself up. The bush scraped his head as he lay in it, but it would have to do. Piccolo drank as much from the trickle of water in the riverbed as he could and started resting in his hole.

A few hours into his rest, Piccolo heard a noise. It was quiet, but getting louder. It sounded like heavy pads touching the ground one after the other. Piccolo pressed his ear harder against the ground, and the noise got louder and clearer. Now, it was apparent that the noise was a heavy creature with flat feet walking. And it was getting louder. 'I wonder what it is,' Piccolo thought. So he squirmed his way out of the hole and got to a knee next to the bush. He could see an outline now. There was a large creature moving towards him. Its outline was wide at the top and tapered beneath it to its two front legs, not too far apart. The legs lifted up, bent a wide paw at the end, and dropped down below the creature. With each step it took, the creature's shoulders swaggered back and forth. There was a large head with short ears facing him. The creature stepped into a small clearing and was illuminated by the moonlight. The bear stood up on its hind legs and roared.

Piccolo shuddered. The bear was easily a meter taller than he was, and many times bigger. He stood no chance against it. He had to run. Piccolo backed away from the bear. The bear went back down to all fours and moved closer to him, in the same swaggering way as before. Piccolo turned and bolted. The bear pursued him. Piccolo splashed through the trickle seconds before the bear did. They both ran as fast as was physically possible. Piccolo could smell the bear's foul stench. It was gaining on him. Piccolo racked his brains in desperation. 'If I can't outrun this thing, what can I do? Hide? Fight? First one seems good….' As Piccolo passed a large fir tree, he grabbed onto it and swung his body into a bush at the base of the tree. The bear noticed that his prey had escaped his sight and started sniffing. Piccolo tensed his muscles as the bear passed the tree sniffing. It turned its nose towards the bush. Piccolo, out of options, prepared to go down fighting. The bear came closer. Piccolo silently brought his right fist behind him. The bear stuck its snout into the bush. Piccolo plunged his right straight into the bear's nose.

The bear roared in pain. Piccolo leapt out of the bush and right at the side of the bear. He raked the bear's hide with his claws and dove to the side as the bear turned towards him. The bear slowly rotated towards Piccolo, while Piccolo shuffled to the bear's side. After almost a minute of nervous rotation, the bear's head was right in front of Piccolo. The bear pounced at Piccolo, aiming for his shoulders. Piccolo ducked under the flying bear and sunk his claws into his underbelly. However, the bear's hind claws hit his shoulders and bowled him over, giving him some stinging scrapes in the process. The bear's front feet hit the ground, followed by his hind feet. It roared and turned around. When the bear's left side was turned toward him, Piccolo jumped onto it, sinking his claws and teeth in. The bear roared and turned its head to the left. Piccolo sank his teeth in deeper and tensed his muscles. The bear bit Piccolo on his side. Piccolo screamed, releasing his mouth's hold on the bear. He climbed up onto the bear's back and bit the back of its neck.

The bear roared in pain once again. It started furiously shaking its shoulders, trying to get Piccolo off. But Piccolo held his claws and teeth in the bear's back. He buried his face in the bear's neck, ignoring the incredible stench of bear. Eventually, however, he needed to breathe. He lifted his face from the bear and inhaled, only to be launched off the bear's back and into a tree. The bear ran away into the night, and Piccolo slumped against a tree with major injuries in his side and shoulders.

Piccolo woke up at mid-morning. His wounds weren't too bad, but his entire body felt sore. He stood up and stretched, banishing some of the soreness. Suddenly, Piccolo realized that he didn't have any idea where he was. He tried to retrace his steps.

"Okay, so I was thrown over there from here… and the monster shook around over here… and I jumped on him… yeah, I'm lost," he said to himself.

Piccolo found a clearing and looked at the landscape in all directions. He found the large, snow-topped mountains and turned the opposite direction. Piccolo started walking, and resolved not to stop or change directions until he found his new home.


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours later, Piccolo sat down. 'I'm definitely lost now,' he thought. Although Piccolo had been trying to keep going south, there had been many shrubs and trees in his way that made him deviate from his course. He thought he had still been doing a good job staying on track in spite of that, but now he recognized his surroundings. Worse, he could feel the effects of thirst like a handful of sand in his throat and mouth. Piccolo buried his forehead in his palms and thought his situation over.

'So I've been going in a loop for the last 20, 30 minutes. Of course, I probably wasn't going the right way in the first place. I don't know where I am, or where I want to be.' Piccolo lifted his head and stretched his neck. 'So really, if I just go one way, I don't have anything to lose. I'll end up at a river eventually. Or the cliff. Hopefully I can get to a river soon.' Piccolo stood back up and continued walking.

Several hours later, Piccolo came across a clearing. It was a strange clearing, terraced into many long, narrow, dirt platforms ascending the slope. Each terrace contained a wave of tall yellow grass, with small yellow ears of grain on the tops of the stalks. The clearing stretched for at least a kilometer from where he was standing, and seemed to be the same distance wide. There were several large wooden structures in the middle, and a small, half-full stream flowing through it. The mountains were visible to Piccolo's right. At that moment, Piccolo spotted something he recognized. His antennae stood up in shock and he dove behind a tree. The clearing was crawling with humans.

Piccolo racked his mind for ideas. However, he could only think of one: He needed to get to the stream to drink. He was thirsty and tired, and it seemed like the only option. He decided to go to the left, as the stream was closest in that direction. Piccolo ran behind the closest tree. He peeked out and surveyed the clearing. Fortunately, most of the people were on the other side of the clearing, but there were about a dozen on his side. Most of them were crouched in the terraces, but some were standing in an enclosure near the stream with some animals.

Piccolo dropped to his stomach and seal-crawled to the next tree. He stood up behind it and took another peek. The humans were still in the same place they were before. One of the humans in the enclosure looked his way. Piccolo froze. The human started walking towards him. Piccolo withdrew his head back behind the tree and tensed all his muscles. He could feel the adrenaline speeding up his heart and tinting his mind. He could either run or wait. 'Is he coming towards me?' his fear asked. 'If he is, I should I fight or run?' his reason responded, 'Maybe if I fight, I could beat him and continue. The other humans probably aren't close enough to hear….' 'Unless he screams,' his fear finished. 'And what if he's going to get the other humans to kill me?' it said.

'He probably isn't… I think.'

'We're dead if he is.'

'I should run then.'

'What if they hear us and kill us?'

'I can outrun them.'

'Good, so do it.'

'I'm not sure I should.'

'Why not?'

'I might lose the water.'

'That doesn't matter.'

'What if he's not coming here?'

'He is.'

'How do you know?'

'I think he is….'

'I'll go check.'

'He'll see you,' Piccolo's fear said to him. Piccolo ignored him and peeked out from behind the tree. The human wasn't looking at him anymore. He was standing slightly closer, next to a large animal. Piccolo sighed in relief. He crawled several trees closer to the stream and stood up again behind a tree. No one was looking. Piccolo crawled to the stream and lapped up the water. As he got up, a sharp object poked his back. Humans were standing right behind him, with their knives hovering over his back.

"Alright, monster. Put your hands up and get up slowly," one of the humans said.

"I don't think he has any weapons…," another said.

The first one replied, "Doesn't matter. If his hands are up, it'll be harder for it to lash out at us."

Piccolo put his hands over his head and stood up. The men kept their knives at his back. Piccolo slowly walked towards the structures, and the men followed him.

'Good,' Piccolo thought to himself. He was measuring the sounds of their footsteps. He couldn't see the humans, but he could judge their distance by their steps. It took him about a hundred meters of walking before he was sure of all of the humans' location. There were three behind him. Two were about a half meter away, and the other was trailing by three meters. Piccolo suddenly picked up his pace. The humans were surprised, and the two humans closest to him fell two meters behind. Piccolo smiled.

Piccolo took off in a sprint. The humans took a moment to register this, and Piccolo had a head start. He made a sharp turn at a terrace, cutting through there to get back to the trees. The humans started running after him. One of them was gaining. Piccolo grimaced. He jumped down a terrace, sticking the landing. A moment later, the fast man's foot came down onto the dirt of the higher terrace. Piccolo's arm grabbed his pursuer's foot and yanked it down to his level. The man yelled in shock as his body slid down the terrace slope and slumped onto the lower terrace. Piccolo ran back to the trees, jumping down the terraces. The two other humans were moving diagonally across the terraces to intercept him, but Piccolo easily outran them. He looked behind him. There were five humans running for him, tearing through the tall grass in the terraces.

It was only a few dozen more meters to the trees. Piccolo turned his head back just in time for a bullet to miss his head, whizzing past his ear instead. Adrenaline filled his body as he heard the yells of the humans getting louder, and he redoubled his speed to reach the trees.

Piccolo dove behind a tree. He took a look at his surroundings, then at the clearing. The forest was full of shorter-than-normal fir trees, but there was no brush on the ground whatsoever. The humans were still running closer. Piccolo ran deeper into the forest. A bullet sped over his head, plunging into a tree right in front of him. Piccolo stopped in his tracks as the splinters showered onto his antennae. He couldn't keep running; he had to hide. The humans hadn't reached the trees yet.

'I don't have much time to pull this off,' Piccolo thought.

He took a deep breath and made a beeline to the tree in front of him. Once he got there, Piccolo jumped onto the tree trunk, gripping the bark with his claws. He shinnied up the tree. Once his foot was on the branch, he looked down. The humans were in the forest now. He now saw that each of them was carrying a musket. The biggest one (he assumed that was the leader) spoke.

"Alright, he can't have gotten that far, and there's no brush here. Anyone checking the trees?"

One of the other humans said, "Sorry, Aadarsh. I got it."

Aadarsh said, "OK, let's fan out and check the trees."

A chill went through Piccolo's spine. He clambered up a few more branches until he was certain that the ones above his feet wouldn't support his weight. 'Don't want to fall out,' he thought. The humans were looking up each tree now. They hadn't got to his tree yet. Could he get into another tree? He surveyed possibilities. It was hard to see some of the branches with the leaves in the way, but there were a couple solid-looking ones to his left. One of the men was checking his tree. Piccolo squeezed himself to try to hide atop the branch. The man looked up the tree. Piccolo's face started to sweat. The man looked down. Piccolo sighed in relief as he kept walking. Then the man paused and stretched his neck. Piccolo saw the shock in his eyes as he turned his head to the left and glimpsed him.

Piccolo crouched and leaped to one of the other trees. The human yelled, "Monster!" and raised his gun. Piccolo landed on the branch and pitched forward. He hastily shot his arms back to grab the branch. Although he was successful, he immediately regretted his decision.

'Great. I'm 10 meters in the air, hanging by the arms, and five humans are pointing muskets at me. Fantastic.'


	6. Chapter 6

Piccolo stared at one of his attackers. Like the others, he had slightly swarthy skin and short black hair. Unlike the others, his face had several large scars: one running down the left side of his face, one from the middle of his forehead down to the right cheek, crossing the eye, and another on the left side of his nose. He had a familiar face, but he couldn't put his finger on when, where, or how they had met. As the memory came, the man he was staring at started to return a puzzled gaze at him. Recognition dawned on each of their faces at the same time. The man (he believed he was called Yash) pointed at him.

The hunter from several years before shouted, "Hey, I think this is the green thing that gave me my scars!"

The other hunters turned their heads to look at him. Piccolo took advantage of the distraction to haul himself back up to the branch. One of the humans looked back at him and fired. Although he missed by a mile, Piccolo flinched and drew back. Unfortunately, there was nothing but air behind him and he fell. He grabbed the branch with one hand and swung underneath it.

"Come on, Tshering," Yash murmured.

Piccolo's shoulder was burning. His body still hadn't absorbed the water yet, and he had overexerted his deltoids when he pulled himself up. As he swung from the branch, trying to pull himself back up again, he could feel his shoulder giving out. The humans started pointing their muskets at him again, except for the one who had fired and was reloading. "Look at his arms!" Yash screamed, "If he pulls himself up, shoot!"

After about a minute of unsuccessful swinging and pulling, Piccolo gave up and relaxed his shoulder. He plummeted to the dirt below. His hands were still on the branch, connected to his body by an 8 meter long arm. The humans stood with their mouths agape and their muskets still aimed 7 meters above his head. Piccolo let go of the branch, and his arm collapsed back to its original length.

Aadarsh screamed, "What just happened!"

"It's not a monster then, if it has supernatural powers," Yash said.

Piccolo charged at Tshering.

Yash continued, "It's a demon."

Piccolo grabbed the barrel of Tshering's musket and yanked it out of his hands. The green man brandished the musket and stepped closer to his opponent. Tshering drew back his fist, but Piccolo ducked under his shoulders and rammed the man in the gut with the butt of his musket. As Tshering fell onto the ground, Piccolo leaped at Yash. Piccolo brought down the musket over Yash's head. Yash raised his gun to block the attack. Piccolo jumped backwards, his feet sliding to a halt in the ground. He swung the musket at Yash's head, but he interposed his musket between Piccolo's and himself. Yash then kicked Piccolo in the thigh. Piccolo swung his musket again, this time hitting Yash's knuckles on the hand holding his musket. Yash winced, dropped his musket, and drew a knife.

Aadarsh yelled, "Hold your fire! We don't want to hit Yash!"

Yash lunged with the knife, puncturing Piccolo's sternum. Piccolo thought for a moment. 'I should be able to keep him at a distance with my musket, but then the others might fire. What to do….' Piccolo pulled his musket back and jabbed Yash in the neck. Yash blindly slashed with his knife. Piccolo felt movement behind him. He pivoted to see Aadarsh and another human attempting to sneak up on him. Piccolo swept his musket low, hitting Aadarsh in the shin. The other human tried to club Piccolo on the head. Piccolo tackled him at the gut. A voice yelled, "Kosh!" He sank his teeth into his shoulder, but a musket butt slammed down between his shoulder blades. Piccolo let go of him and got to his knees. The musket butt slammed down again on his right shoulder. Piccolo stood up. The musket butt shot out at the small of his back, but Piccolo dodged it and raked its wielder – it was Aadarsh – in the arm. Piccolo was just about to knock him over when Tshering's musket barrel poked him in the side. "Stop, or I shoot," he said.

Piccolo looked at his situation. One, now two humans (Aadarsh had joined Tshering) had guns jammed into his side. Piccolo raised his hands over his head. "I surrender," he said.

Yash walked up to Aadarsh and said, "Alright, now let's kill it."

Aadarsh pulled his musket away from Piccolo's side and said, "No, Yash. He's surrendering. We should take him to the panchayat."

"How can you say that?" Yash said incredulously, "It's a demon!"

Aadarsh said, "He might be a demon, but that doesn't matter. He surrendered."

After that, Yash stayed silent. Another human came out of the forest. This one had a sheepish look on his face, and Piccolo guessed that he had ran at some point during the fight based on the glares that Yash and Kosh aimed at the man. Tshering kept his gun pressed against Piccolo, and the humans took him to the village. They led him to the center of the village, where they tied up Piccolo's hands and feet.

Aadarsh said, "This is where the panchayat is held. Tshering, Upendra, Kosh, assemble the Panchayat. Yash and I will hold you until they get here."

The three waited almost an hour for the panchayat to convene. Many villagers came to gawk at Piccolo; a group of children even took turns sneaking up behind Piccolo and pulling his ears. Piccolo tried to turn around, but Yash jammed his musket's barrel deeper into Piccolo's flesh. Piccolo tried to keep his mind elsewhere after that, but every few dozen seconds, someone would stare into his eyes, or one of the children would poke him, and his thoughts turned to a mix of resentment and humiliation.

'Could this possibly last longer? Feels like it's already been hours. Why can't those infernal children stop poking me? Am I really that interesting to touch?' Piccolo thought as he stared at the sky. 'Sun still isn't that far down yet. Damn it!' he thought as a child flicked his ear, 'When I get out of these ropes, I am going to kill all of the children myself. And now he poked me… I need something else to keep me occupied.' Piccolo turned his head to Aadarsh.

"So, Aardash," Piccolo said, "What's a 'panchayat'?"

"My name is Aadarsh and – wait, you can talk?"

"I surrendered to you, remember?" Piccolo said.

"Oh, that's right," Aadarsh said, "Anyway, the panchayat is an assembly of five elders that govern the village. Most of them are already here, but Gaurab is doing something important, I think. He should be here soon."

Piccolo grunted. "So, what will they do to me?" he asked.

Aadarsh said, "I have no idea. Depends on if they think you're a demon of some sort."

"Well, obviously it is," Yash interrupted.

Aadarsh said, "We don't know if he's a demon. Honestly, I'm not sure he is. I mean, stretching doesn't really sound like a demonic power."

Yash said, "Yeah, like you know the Vedas. There are a lot of different kinds of demon, you know."

"You don't know them very well either," said Aadarsh, "I bet you can't even name any. That's why we called the panchayat. They'll know what to do."

Yash said, "Look, Aadarsh, I've met this green man before. Remember when I came back from the mountains with all the wounds on my face? That was him."

"Yes, you already said so. Doesn't mean he's a demon though," Aadarsh said, "What if a tiger mauled you? Would you think it was a demon?"

"But it was malicious. It didn't seem like it was attacking for any reason, like we were disturbing its nest or shooting it or anything. We were just out there, and he popped out and started attacking us, and then he mauled my face, and then…," Yash said.

"You don't know that," Aadarsh interrupted.

"Yes I do, I have a feeling. And anyway, do you know what happened after I got back? Because I-", Yash responded as he turned away from the other guard.

Up to that point, Piccolo was considering saying or doing something. However, the conversation was far more entertaining than being poked by small humans in silence. Now he wanted to know exactly what had happened to his captor after he had come back to the village.

Aadarsh said, "Yes, we all remember. I was there, you know."

"I was going to tell the, uh, the green demon about it," Yash said.

Aadarsh said, "Hey, we don't know it's a demon!" He looked upset that the argument had come back around to where it had started.

Yash sighed, "Well, what should I call it, then?"

Aadarsh said, "I don't know, something more polite than 'green demon'! I mean, there have to be so many other ways to talk about him."

"Well, I was just trying to be descriptive. It's a demon, it's green, it's a green demon," Yash said, "and if you want some proof that he's both, look at his skin and listen to what I say."

Aadarsh sputtered, "But, he's not a demon, I mean, probably…. Alright. What I mean to say is… you're just trying to demonize him… Well…."

In Piccolo's mind, it was becoming ever clearer that the argument would keep going on in circles until Gaurab got there, with no prospect of Yash ever saying what had happened. The already-low entertainment value was slipping away, and something had to be done. "My name is Piccolo," he blurted out.

"Wait, you can…? Never mind," Aadarsh calmed down considerably as he spoke, "You see, Yash? His name is Piccolo. Is that 'descriptive' enough for you?"

Yash grunted.

"What happened to Yash after he got back here?" Piccolo continued.

"It's a long story," Yash said.

"No it isn't." said Aadarsh.

"Yes it is!"

Aadarsh said, "No, it isn't. When he got back, his wounds were infected, and he almost died. It's only one sentence."

"You're leaving out quite a lot," Yash grumbled.

"Not really," Aadarsh said, "You almost died, you were in a lot of pain, and you had to sell most of your livestock. It's not like he meant to do that."

Piccolo said, "He's right. Don't blame me for that."

"You weren't selling me spoiled curry; you were attacking me! Obviously, you meant to kill me, and you almost succeeded," Yash said.

Aadarsh said something next, but Piccolo wasn't listening. He was too busy thinking about what Yash had said. He didn't want to kill the man now (although he certainly didn't like him), but had he all those years ago, when he was defending his goats from him? He was racking his mind for memories, but an expected phrase tore through his concentration like a bullet through paper.

"Hey, it's Gaurab!" Aadarsh said.

"Yes, I'm here," a man said as he jostled through the crowd. Piccolo assumed it was Gaurab. "Is everyone else here?" he asked.

"Yes, the panchayat can convene," a man in the front of the crowd said.

As five men sat down in front of Piccolo, Piccolo noticed that the children had scattered into the crowd. 'That's a relief,' he thought. One of the five made a hand gesture in the air, and the crowd dispersed. Piccolo got a better look at these men. The man called Gaurab was sitting on the far left. He could recall Aadarsh said they were the oldest men in the village. However, with one exception, they didn't look particularly different from most of the people in the village. Maybe humans didn't change appearance as they aged? Piccolo got a closer look at them. They were in fact different. They had slightly grayer hair compared to the others, and a two of them had less hair on the top of their heads. The exception to this pattern was the man in the center. He had white hair and a long beard. His skin was wrinkled, and he looked frailer than the men surrounding him.

The man in the center cleared his throat. "Alright," he said, "Should we begin?"

"Why are we here, for starters?" Gaurab asked.

"I think it was something about a monster?" the man sitting second from the right said.

"Correct, Lokman. To be specific, the one right in front of us," the man in the center said.

"Alright, Rambaran, I get it," Gaurab said exasperatedly, "It was obvious. Why is it here?"

Aadarsh said, "It was drinking from the stream, and some people captured it. It ran away, so Yash and I, we were in the village, and we captured it again."

"Anything else?" Rambaran asked.

"Two more things, actually," Yash said, "One, I think it's a demon of some sort, and two, it's the one that gave me these wounds three years ago."

The panchayat was shocked. "The first would explain... A few things," Rambaran said.

"Like why he isn't from any monster tribe that I know of!" said the elder sitting on the far right.

"Indeed, Umesh. I have noticed that also. But is there any proof that he's a demon?"

"Let me show you!" Yash said."Aadarsh, hold its shoulders," he said more quietly. He grabbed Piccolo by the wrist and yanked his arm forwards. Piccolo fell to the ground, bringing Aadarsh with him. "Alright, this time brace yourself," he said to Aadarsh. He yanked again. Piccolo pulled his arm back toward him. They struggled against each other for about a minute, when Yash gave up. "Alright, that didn't work. But when we were capturing him, its arms extended to about 5 or 10 meters," he said. Rambaran and Gaurab gave him a puzzled look. "Aadarsh, can you back me up here?" he asked. Aadarsh nodded.

Rambaran asked, "Do you have any other witnesses to this?"

Piccolo didn't want to wait for the panchayat to gather the other three men that had been there. "My arm did extend," he said, "but I am not a demon."

"Rambaran, is he a demon?" asked Gaurab.

"I don't think so." Rambaran said.

"Stretching doesn't really seem like a demonic power," said Lokman.

"I agree," said the man second from the left.

"I will need some time to remember about this, but for now let's assume that he's not a demon. What could he be?" Rambaran concluded.

After a few minutes of silence, Umesh spoke up. "Maybe it's some kind of monster from far away," he said. "Possibly some kind of variety of Giras?" he proposed.

"What's a Giras?" Piccolo asked.

Yash answered, "It's a kind of large winged beast. We don't see them here very often, but they attack all the time in the lowlands."

In another few minutes, he spoke again, "So no one else has any better ideas? In that case, let's assume he's some kind of Giras. What do we do?"

"Are the sahibs still putting out bounties for monsters? I think I remember they were putting them out last year, but I've also heard rumors that they stopped. Have you heard anything?" Umesh asked as he pointed to the elder second from the left.

The man replied, "No, they actually stopped the monster bounties the year before last. But I do know of someone who would want this..."

"Piccolo," Aadarsh and Piccolo said at the same time.

"Yes. Anyway, if Rambaran says he's not a demon, I'll take him to see my friend Ranchhodbhai," he said.

"Sounds like a plan," said Umesh.

"Agreed," said Gaurab.

"Yes," said Lokman.

"I'll study the Vedas overnight." said Rambaran.

Piccolo stared at the man sitting between Gaurab and Rambaran. He was swarthy like the rest of the villagers, with greying hair and a short beard that didn't cover up his prominent jawline. If Rambaran said he wasn't a demon (which Piccolo thought was true) he would be going quite far with this man, judging by that he was apparently the only man in the village who knew this "Ranchhodbhai". Nevertheless, it was still better than being executed.


	7. Chapter 7

Piccolo stared at the floor of the cart. After the meeting had adjourned, everything had happened in an entirely predictable sequence. The elders had kept him in a horse stall guarded by Kosh and Yash. His hands and feet were still tied together, of course. The two humans were not happy with the elders' preliminary decision, and they let him know. He noticed that Kosh didn't move his arm around a lot, and that there was a noticeable bulge about his shoulder. Maybe this was because of his bite? He'd tried to ask him, but the human was reluctant to talk, so he had just sat and waited for the night to be over.

After the day had begun, Rambaran announced that he wasn't a demon. Piccolo was semi-relieved; while he didn't think he was a demon, he was worried that he might match the description of one, or that Rambaran would screw something up, or that Yash would suddenly switch bodies with him and make the judgement himself. He was bemused now that he ever could have thought up something as strange as that, but he didn't have anything else to think about that night.

After that, the elder, whose name he still didn't know, brought up a donkey cart and Yash loaded him in. The cart set out on a wide dirt path, with Piccolo and the elder inside. _And that brings me to where I am now_ , he observed. _Now where am I going?_ Piccolo looked up. They were out of the clearing and in the forest again. The elder was sitting in a bench mounted on the front of the cart, facing the donkeys. The rising sun in the east rested on top of his head, making the top of his hair appear to glow. Piccolo shifted to point at the elder, but then reconsidered and brought his hand back down. _I don't want to rock the boat here. I'll find out soon enough, and he might not like my question…._ A few seconds later, the elder turned around. "What did you want to say?" he asked.

Piccolo blinked. _I couldn't have made that much noise..._ "Oh, uh," he stammered.

"Get it out," he said.

"Well, uh, what's your name?" he asked. _Should fool him, that's a reasonable question. Every human I've seen so far has had one… I think._

He paused for an uncomfortable few seconds and said, "My name is Subash. But are you sure that's what you wanted to ask?"

Piccolo slightly opened his mouth before closing it. He stiffened his posture. "Yes," he said.

"Very well," Subash replied.

The cart ride down the path for a few hours. _Huh, I thought we would be here by now,_ Piccolo thought. _Can't be that much further, though. Maybe Subash will know._

"Hey, Subash!" Piccolo said.

"What is it?"

"How much longer will it be until we're at Ranchetby's house?"

"Ranchhodbhai," said Subash, "and it won't be for a while. We'll get there tomorrow."

Piccolo boggled at him. "Really?"

"Yes. Ordinarily the trip is a lot shorter, but I really don't want to run into soldiers. If they find us, they'll take you away and either kill or enslave you," he said. "They'd probably take me too. I've got an alibi, but it probably wouldn't hold up, especially after they find out who I am," he said sullenly.

"Who are you, and why would 'soldiers' want you?" Piccolo asked.

Subash's jaws audibly snapped shut and didn't open again for hours. Piccolo tried for a few minutes to get him to answer, but his mouth stayed shut. After a few minutes of trying to get a comfortable seat in the bed of the cart, Piccolo took a seat on the edge and sat motionless for roughly two hours. By the time he got bored with meditating, the sun was high in the sky and both Piccolo and Subash were covered in sweat.

Piccolo brought his bound hands behind him and arched his back. He was starting to feel the hot sun. After two hours, his rags were drenched, his head felt light, and his legs felt like they had been chopped off at the buttocks. _Or maybe that's just this damned seat_ , he thought. He brought his hands back over his head and rotated his torso. Right as he was stretching forward, the cart stopped and jettisoned him behind the donkey. _This is only marginally better!_ The donkey kicked, but Piccolo rolled away from its leg and got up to a knee.

"Sorry! Are you alright?" Subash asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why'd we stop?" Piccolo asked.

"We're going to have lunch. I was going to help you out of the cart, but I guess that's not necessary now...," Subash said.

"It's good. I did that on my own, thank you very much," said Piccolo.

They sat down on a nearby boulder. "So, I've got chapatis and chikki. Have you ever had those?" Subash asked.

"No, I haven't," replied Piccolo, "and I won't today unless you untie my hands."

"Wait," he said.

"Go on."

Subash asked, "If I untie you, then what's stopping you from escaping?"

"One: We're in the middle of nowhere. Two: I'm tired of starving my way through this forest, and this Ranchodbai should have food. Three: my feet are still tied," Piccolo said. _All of those are true. But I can't trust him. There will be food elsewhere._

"Well, alright," Subash said.

Subash handed out a large circular flatbread and a small ball of nuts to Piccolo. "We're having this because I don't want to make a fire. You see, this trail is supposed to be off-limits, which is why we haven't run into anyone so far. If we boiled water for rice, well, we'd have soldiers coming over to stick rifles up our asses," he said without pausing.

"Sorry, I talk when I'm nervous," he said.

Piccolo asked, "So, why is this trail off-limits?"

"It goes through Nepalese territory. The borders are closed, so all the trans-border trails were shut down a while ago," Subash said. He looked down and continued, "My cousin was arrested for crossing the border. This was during the first days of the closed border, you see. He was in a caravan going back from Nepal, and the entire caravan was arrested at the border. They deported the Nepalis, and jailed the rest for five years."

"Whoa," Piccolo said. "But if there are checkpoints on the border, then won't they find us?" he asked. He bit into the nut ball. It was chewy and sweet at the same time. _Oh_ man _, this is so much better than grass._

"They took the checkpoints off this trail last year. I guess they needed the troops for the Burma war, and they realized this trail doesn't go anywhere in Nepal." Subash said.

"Hmm. So why does Ranchhodbhai want me?" Piccolo asked before biting into the chapati draped across both of his hands.

Subash seemed to hesitate. Immediately after Piccolo finished his sentence, he put the ball of chikki in his mouth and chewed. Once he was finished, he said, "You're eating that wrong." Piccolo tilted his head up slightly. "See, when you eat these without anything else, it's best to roll them up. I mean, that's what I do," he said before he demonstrated his method.

Piccolo didn't wait for him to finish chewing. "That's not what I asked," he said.

Subash glared at him.

Piccolo rolled his chapati, took a bite, and looked deep into Subash's eyes. "Is it really that important that I don't know?" he asked.

"No reason you _should_ know," Subash retorted.

Silence filled the air between the two. They stared intensely at each other for several seconds. Piccolo heard faint footsteps. His arm, but not any other body part, whipped to the side. _Wait, do I still hear them? No, must have just been something falling. Stay cool, Piccolo._ Suddenly, an observation came into his mind. _Subash didn't even flinch when I did that. Is… Is this an opportunity to escape?_

He examined his opponent's face. All of his features were trained on Piccolo, who tested his hypothesis by sliding his hand from his thigh to his knee. No reaction from Subash. Then he slowly slid it down his shin until his arm was fully extended. _Can't get any further than that. But don't my arms extend? How did I…._ Piccolo tried to reach the ropes binding his feet, but his claws were only able to sever a few fibers at the top. He thought back to the fight in the forest. _I was hanging on for my life back there, but then I just stopped pulling. Yes, I just have to fully relax my arm._

Piccolo started to meditate, making sure to keep his eyes pointed into Subash's. With each second of complete relaxation, his arm pushed out a millimeter. After a couple of minutes, Piccolo decided it was time. He put his claws on the rope and started sawing. It was tough rope, but not harder than his claws. He increased the speed until he heard a noise. _Did Subash just move?_ He stopped sawing and resumed staring with all of his might. After three widely-spaced blinks from Subash, Piccolo got back to work on the rope. _And… There!_

Piccolo screamed as his claws went through the last fibers of the rope and into his ankle. Subash snapped back into concentration and grabbed his other arm. Piccolo jumped off the rock, pulling Subash up with him.

He turned to face Subash and yank his arm out of Subash's hand, but he only succeeded in dragging his feet closer to Subash. _Damn, this guy has a strong grip._ Piccolo braced his feet on the rock and pulled harder, but Subash didn't budge. He then tried to pry his fingers loose, but Subash caught his hand. _My injured leg is starting to feel light; I can't keep at this. Only one thing to do._ Piccolo poured all of his energy into one last heave of his legs to propel himself off the rock, grabbed Subash's arms, and slammed both of his feet into Subash's face, splattering it with red and purple blood.

"Goatfucker!" Subash yelled as he put his hands on his face.

Piccolo bolted off into the forest.

Subash yelled, "My fucking eyes! I can't fucking see!"

Piccolo tripped on his injured leg.

"Piccolo, I'll fucking tell you what you want to fucking know! Just get here and fucking help me and my fucking face!"

Piccolo looked at his ankle. It was much worse than he had imagined. The blood left a purple trail from the rock to where he was now. When he thought of getting up and running away, all he could think of was a future of running, of fighting for survival every day, of starving. Possibly even of bleeding out. _When I got him to unbind my hands… That wasn't an excuse, that was reality. I can't just leave him, not when I have something different ahead of me. But on the other hand, do I really want to just do what this man wants me to? My independence, my pride, will he actually forgive me?_

"Come on, please!"

 _Ah, screw it._ Piccolo got up and limped towards Subash. He examined his eyes. "Doesn't look like much, except for all the blood."

"Thank you," said Subash.

He took off his raggedy shirt and wiped his eyes clean. "For cleaning your eyes?" Piccolo asked. Subash blinked several times and flushed his cheeks. He had a few cuts and bruises on his forehead and near his mouth, but there was nothing major.

"No, although that was good too. Probably would have done it myself eventually, though," Subash said. "But what I actually wanted to thank you about is for coming back; oh _Krishna_ that is a wound," he said. "Blind me again! But seriously, we need to do something about that. There are bandages in the cart," he said. He got some strips of cloth and tied them around Piccolo's ankle. Subash helped Piccolo into the cart before getting on the driving bench himself.

Subash stretched his neck and hands. "First, I should warn you about something: this is the short version. There are holes in the long story; I don't know the reasons for everything and all. See, Mitesh - that's Ranchhodbhai's real name - and I used to be in the army. Specifically, the Maratha Army. Then, the second English war happened. After we lost, my village came under Company rule, so I left the army. Same thing happened to Mitesh. We spent a few years at ground in our separate villages, but eventually we were both contacted by a Maratha spy ring."

"So, I and Mitesh were both working for the spy ring, right? We both moved to Delhi to report on troop movements and such. Eventually, we learned that we were each doing the same thing. Still not sure why, but we were. So we worked together for the next decade. We had a few subordinates, and we made quite a lot of money. But then when the third English war happened, the Marathas were conquered and we were discovered. When we got the news that we had lost the war, Mitesh and I tried to flee. I was arrested at the Punjabi border, and Mitesh escaped to Siam via Ahmadabad."

"I was put in jail for ten years, but escaped after two. I settled in this village after collecting some old debts. I adopted a fake name, Krishan, and a fake history to go with it. If you ever come across anyone from my village, call me that. Two years ago, Mitesh came back from Siam. Now he's working with some Punjabis. I'm not really involved with what he's doing, but I do keep in touch with him, so I know that he needs some people to help him with… whatever he does. I don't know, and I honestly don't want to."

"So, the reason why soldiers are after us is because I'm a fugitive," Subash finished.

Piccolo nodded. "Interesting," he said.

Piccolo and Subash rode until sunset. They didn't talk to each other much; Piccolo spent most of the trip meditating and Subash avoided long conversations while he wasn't. He did learn that Subash was unmarried, he had had some dalliances while in the Maratha army, and his father and two aunts were dead. When the sun was low on the horizon, they stopped at a boiling spring.

"How do you like it, huh?" Subash said. "We're going to make a low fire to boil water for rice. The steam from the spring should disguise the smoke from the fire," he said nervously. They built and tended the fire together, Piccolo gathering sticks from the forest while Subash assembled the fire and kept it going. After a few minutes, Subash set up a small pot of water over the fire and put rice in it.

At sunset, Subash yelled, "You can stop now; we've got a pretty good stockpile of sticks here."

Piccolo came back to the fire and sat down. "I just have a question to ask," he said.

"What's the question?"

"How come you didn't tie me back up again?"

"Well, I thought about it, but I decided not to. You see," Subash chuckled, "I…."

CRACK!

A bullet smacked Subash in the chest, laying him out next to the fire. Piccolo got up to his knees, his mouth agape.

CRACK!

Another bullet passed in front of Piccolo's eyes before winging his cheek. Piccolo roared in pain and anger. Piccolo stood up and frantically looked around. _There they are._ In a bush to his left, a poorly hidden human and a satyr were abandoning their muskets and pulling out knives. Piccolo pounced on the satyr. It braced itself and socked Piccolo in the jaw as he leaped. Piccolo grabbed both of its arms and slammed them on the ground before biting his chest. It screamed. The human tried to stab Piccolo in the back, but Piccolo rolled out of the knife's path. Now on top, the satyr unsuccessfully headbutted Piccolo. Piccolo lifted the satyr by the chest with his teeth and dropped him on the ground. The human stabbed again, but Piccolo rolled and tackled his legs. The human fell to the ground, and Piccolo slashed his stomach. A shot rang out. Piccolo dove away from the human and satyr. All three of them looked to the direction of the shot, and all three were surprised to see an unharmed Subash pointing his pistol at them.

"Go away!" Subash screamed.

The shooters scattered.

Piccolo stared at him. "What was that?" he asked. He wiped some blood from his face and asked again.

"Something I learned in the army," Subash said. He glanced at the forest. He calmly continued, "There's a good chance they'll come back with more men. Pour out the water and take the rice. I'll put out the fire. We're going to pack up and get to Mitesh's over the night. We'll eat in the cart. Complete silence, got it?"

Piccolo followed his orders and got in the cart. Twilight set over the land, turning the hot spring into nothing more than a haze rising from the ground. _I really need to find out what Subash just did there._

* * *

 _Sorry for the last upload. I apparently uploaded it incorrectly, and I will try to avoid making those kind of mistakes in the future._

 _-Klarkakent_


	8. Chapter 8

Piccolo sat and stared at the donkey. The night had gone by without event. The rice tasted pretty good, but Subash ate most of it in the first five minutes of the night. He eased himself onto a bale of hay and looked to the stars. The moon wasn't out, so each star was visible, glowing brightly or faintly in the night. They formed patterns. Some of the stars he could imagine as being connected to each other by lines, lines of zero height or width, but visibility – tangibility? – just as obvious as the leaves and branches framing the sky. But more apparent were the density gradients in the stars. Each cluster of stars was surrounded by a shade lighter sky in the night blackness. The larger and denser the cluster, the lighter the sky. The largest cluster, a huge belt in the night, glowed with a color that was neither a shade of black nor of white. _Gray?_ But it was not gray. It was no color Piccolo could imagine. Although the answer literally stared him in the face, it was beyond his capacity to think of the answer.

Piccolo had tried to decipher the color of that belt for years, yet it still eluded him. He slipped into a trance as he continued his quest for knowledge, and did not come back until after a sudden jolt ran through the cart.

It was still night time; there was no light aside from the stars. Although Piccolo could barely make out any distinct figure, he noticed Subash get out of the cart. He walked to a set of four posts with bells standing on them and rang: first the far right, then the center-left, then the far left, then the center-right. Each one made a distinct sound as it was rung. Subash got back on the cart, and they were off.

"What was that all about?" Piccolo asked.

"That was the passcode to get in," Subash said, "It tells the guards to expect us instead of shooting until we're dead."

"How many times you think that's happened?" Piccolo said.

Subash's face twisted for a moment and then settled. "I have no idea," he said. "Maybe I'll ask Mitesh when we get to his place. It should take 10-15 minutes to get up there, give or take."

Five minutes later, the cart turned into a small clearing, where Subash tied and hobbled his donkey. "Alright, Piccolo. From here there's a short hike to Mitesh's place," he said. He proceeded to stuff some sacks into a tall wicker basket and hand it to Piccolo. "Take this basket with you." Subash stuffed the hay and some other sacks into two more baskets. He then put the two baskets on a pole on his shoulders.

Piccolo asked Subash, "So, what's in these baskets?"

Subash responded, "Food." He paused, "I figure he'll need it."

"Alright," Piccolo said. _Why would he take all of this food and hay just as a gift? There has to be a reason._

The path they were taking was between two ridges about a kilometer apart. Two or three kilometers deep, another ridge cut off the valley in between them. Subash and Piccolo walked up the slope, Piccolo being sure to stay behind Subash. After he was sure that Subash wasn't looking back, Piccolo slowed his walking until he was ten meters behind Subash. He carefully placed the basket on the ground. As it touched, the basket was tilted by a pebble and quietly squeaked. Piccolo glanced ahead, but Subash was still walking. He opened the top sack to find a pile of lychee fruit. _So he is bringing food. But this still doesn't answer why._ He opened a sack as tall as the basket itself. In that basket were three muskets and several sacks. Sticking his finger into a sack, he found it held a black powder. He closed the sack and examined Subash, now a couple dozen meters ahead of him. _Did he really not notice?_ Piccolo sped up his pace, and soon he was only a few meters behind Subash.

A few minutes later, a dark silhouette of a door appeared before them. Subash put his baskets down, knocked four times, paused, and then knocked five more times. The door creaked open, revealing the massive form of a minotaur. A lantern inside illuminated the ox-man's black fur with gray strands interspersed, his yellowed horns, and a saffron robe draped on his body. His body was a head taller than Piccolo's, and his nose was slit from his nostrils to the tip of his snout.

The minotaur exclaimed, "Subash! You're early. Have you found something important?"

Subash said, "Well, yes Mitesh, but I need to talk to you abou…"

Piccolo asked, "That's Mitesh?" _He looks so much different from what I thought he would._

"So, is this guy what you wanted to talk to me about? What's your name, guy?" Mitesh asked.

"I'm Piccolo," Piccolo said.

Subash stood on his toes to whisper something into Mitesh's ear, and his face changed into a grimace with a hint of rage.

"Alright, we'll take care of it in the morning," he sighed angrily. "But what about you, Subash? What are you doing here so…"

Subash whispered into Mitesh's ear again, and his face morphed understandingly.

"As I was saying, what are you doing here?" Mitesh asked before pausing. "I haven't seen you in so long."

Subash said, "I found Piccolo at Mangti village. I'm on the panchayat there as Krishan. They caught him drinking from a stream outside the village, and one of his captors thought he was a demon. They brought him to the panchayat. The other four wanted to sell him to the Company, so I told them they stopped the bounties."

"So you lied," Mitesh said disappointedly.

"It was the only way," said Subash.

"Very well," Mitesh said, "I guess it didn't hurt anyone. Changing the subject. Piccolo! Will you join me on our quest?"

"What?" asked Piccolo.

Mitesh raptly repeated, "Our quest! To save the People, to expel the corruption, to fulfill destiny! Will you join us, guy?"

Piccolo said, "What _quest_?"

Mitesh arched an eyebrow at Subash. "The quest is to return Akhand Bharat to its old purity by expelling the invaders! To restore justice by overthrowing their collaborators! And to prevent further disturbance by strengthening the righteous!" he loudly listed.

Piccolo grunted.

"Are you mocking me?" Mitesh shouted.

 _He's mad. If I just give in, he won't trust me, and he'll think I'm scared._ "What's in it for me?" asked Piccolo.

"Participation in the quest is its own reward," Mitesh said harshly, "but we offer food and sanctuary from the authorities."

Piccolo thought through his options. _If I say no, things will go the way they went before. Searching for water and food on my own, with no sense of where to go. If I heard right, people I don't even know will try to capture and sell me._ Piccolo raised his head. _Really, I decided this yesterday._ "Yes, I will join," he said.

Mitesh said, "Alright. Unfortunately, you'll have to sleep in the stable. Ahmed-Sidi will take you there."

As if on cue, a short, lean, black-skinned man stepped out of a shadow. He cracked a gleaming white smile and tapped Piccolo, then led him out the door.

Piccolo heard a knock on the stall door. _Finally_ , he thought. The stable was pitch-black and smelled of shit. It was warm, but that still didn't change the fact that it was one of the worst places he had ever used for shelter. _Was this really the worst, though? Hiding under the bush sucked, but I wasn't there very long. I'll think about it later._ He had his head buried in the fresh hay that Ahmed had dumped in there with him. He stood up, turned around, and saw Mitesh standing there.

"Sorry about dumping you in here," he said. "I was just a… But don't worry! We'll be getting a better place for you to sleep at night."

"I don't sleep," Piccolo said. _Just a what?_

"Well, that makes things easier," Mitesh said. The top half of his nose jiggled as he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I've got clothes for you outside the stables. You'll need them if you don't want to smell like shit. We're all meeting in ten minutes in the big field." They walked out a side door into a tiny patch of grass with a path leading around the stables. "I thought you might want privacy. See you in ten!"

Piccolo put on his clothes – a pair of gray trousers and an overly large and itchy white shirt – and took a look at his surroundings. In front of him, a ridge slumped down against the back of the stables. He walked down a brick pathway to the front and took another look. The entire camp was nestled in a dip between the rise he had hiked over and three ridges. The back ridge had a cut in the center, where a small stream ran into a large river on the other side. There were three ramshackle houses in the front, on the inward slope of the rise. Alongside them were at least a dozen tents and several gardens.

All of the ridges and the rise were heavily forested, and the forest continued into the dip. Small huts were scattered throughout the forest. However, most of the middle was covered by three large clearings, of which the front one was largest. _That must be the big field._ Piccolo noticed strange patterns in the largest clearing, like hastily-destroyed terraces. Looking back to the front, he noticed that there was a substantial crowd in the middle of the tent area. Looking more closely, the green man realized they were dispersing to the big field. _Shit! This wasn't the time to sightsee._ Piccolo scurried down the left slope of the dip, meeting the tail of the line of people midway. He slowed to a walk as he got closer.

"Oh, hello," the man at the back said to Piccolo. He was lean, swarthy, curly-haired, and wore a white sleeveless tunic, trousers, and brown fingerless gloves. "I… don't think I know you. How long have you been here?"

"I got here last night," Piccolo said.

"Oh, got it," the man with gloves said, "I got here a week ago, like most of the others here. My name's Prakash."

"Alright." Piccolo said. He followed the crowd into the the big clearing, where they formed ranks on every other terrace. Piccolo tapped Prakash's shoulder.

"Hm? Oh, I'll show you where to stand during assembly. Just follow me," he said.

Piccolo followed Prakash onto one of the middle terraces. All those behind him were empty; he estimated that that was about three-quarters of the field. Those to the front, however, were occupied by about thirty men and other things.

"Go behind Ishar. Yes, the one with the horns."

Piccolo walked behind Ishar, placing himself five meters from Prakash. In all the terraces in front of him, the people were spaced the same way. Ishar, the one in front of him, was clearly some sort of goat-man. There was another goat-man in the crowd. There were eight animal-humans in the crow; besides the two goat-men, there was a lion-man, a rhinoceros-man, another minotaur (although this one was much shorter than Mitesh), a bear, a small deer-man, and, in the front, a foxlike creature about a meter tall. The other 21 were all humans.

At the very front of the field, Mitesh climbed a large rock and pulled a small piece of paper from his robe. "Good morning, everybody!" he yelled, "We have some news!" He glanced down at the paper. "We got some more supplies last night – and we're still due for another shipment at the end of the month – so double rations today."

Everyone in the audience cheered at that, so Piccolo joined in.

Mitesh continued, "And now some bad news. Last week… Manik and Biswajit were captured and executed in Manipur last week. I… I'd like a moment of silence." He looked down for a minute. Most of the audience wasn't very affected by those words, but a few in the front row bowed their heads in sorrow.

"And for the last bit of news, we have a new teammate. Subash rescued Piccolo from some collaborators that intended to sell him to the Company. He has agreed to join us, so welcome Piccolo! He's hard to miss, his entire body is green! He will be joining Squadron 3. Goodbye, and if Squadron 4 skips latrine duty again, they'll miss out on the double rations!" Mitesh pretended to chuckle and jumped down from the rock.

Piccolo walked to Prakash and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, what is squadron 3?" he asked.

Prakash said, "This camp is divided up into six five-man squadrons. Squadron 3 only had four men until you got here, so you've been assigned to that group. The group is me," he pointed to himself, "Abu Bakr," he pointed to a lanky, relatively light-skinned man with a long, scraggly beard, "Lal," he pointed to the rhinoceros-man, "and Ram," he pointed to a short man with a large mustache.

Abu Bakr clapped Piccolo on the back and took a deep breath. "So, we got the new guy? Let me introduce myself. I am Abu Bakr, and I am the leader of squadron 3. You might think, 'Oh, I am new, I don't know anything.'" He puffed out his chest triumphantly. "Well, that doesn't matter to us. While I have been working with Mitesh for two years, no one else has been here for more than a month," he said. He scratched his bearded chin and continued, "Everyone else is still but a novice in using their _ki_."

"What does that mean?" Piccolo asked.

Abu Bakr said, "Ki is your life force. When you are trained in using it, you will be able to protect yourself from blows, augment your strength, and repair your body if needed. It was discovered a few generations ago, and spread throughout the world's armies. Mitesh learned ki in the Maratha army, and he wants all of his men to know how to use it. He taught me when I joined, and it has saved my life countless times. And now, I will teach you."

Piccolo's mind raced. _Was this what Subash did on the way here? If so, this will be very useful._ "Let's start."

All five members of the squadron were sitting cross-legged on the ground. Abu Bakr got up and paced behind the other four. "Now, I want you to think about nothing but your left shoulder. Don't think about anything else but your left shoulder. It's important that left shoulder should be left shoulder."

Piccolo thought about his left shoulder.

A few minutes passed. Abu Bakr said, "Now, I want you to imagine that it is hot. Feel everything, by which I mean your left shoulder, be hot. After all, your left shoulder is hot, so it's perfectly normal for your left shoulder to be and feel hot. Left shoulder be hot."

Piccolo put some energy into his left shoulder. _This is too easy. Would this really protect me from bullets?_

Ten seconds passed, and Abu Bakr touched Lal's shoulder. "Good. The temperature is fluctuating, but you're definitely doing it." He touched Ram's shoulder, and nodded approvingly. Then, he put his hand on Piccolo. "Alright… this is odd."

"What is it?" Piccolo asked.

Abu Bakr said, "Your temperature is hot and consistent; that's very unusual. Usually, new people have a hard time getting any heat at all."

"Well, I'm doing it, aren't I?" Piccolo said.

"Have you ever… done this before?"

"I've been doing it years."

"Huh," said Abu Bakr. He touched Prakash's shoulder. "Prakash, you're not doing any- Okay, there it is. Well, I can't believe it. Except for Lal, everybody here is ready to start learning how to _seriously_ use ki. We'll start tomorrow. I'll be helping Lal catch up, so you're in charge, Prakash. Work on martial arts until we get back."

Piccolo felt overwhelming anticipation. _Soon, the bullshit will be over. Once I learn how to use ki, no one will be able to make me do anything. You've got a lot of work to do, Piccolo, but it'll all be worth it. You'll see._


	9. Chapter 9

Over the next two weeks, Piccolo spent as much time as he could learning from the members of his group. After all, he was eventually going to go on missions with them, and he didn't want to die. The others were all soldiers (Prakash and Lal had been soldiers in the Punjab Army, and Ram had been a mercenary) and already knew at least the basics of fighting. Piccolo had no knowledge, and had to learn. He wasn't even skilled enough to stand a chance against Lal, the least skilled member of the squadron. So, he trained. If he could have, he would have trained all the time. But Abu Bakr and Prakash (who turned out to be the most skilled martial artist in the squadron besides Abu Bakr) only spent a few hours each day giving combat training; most of the rest of the day was spent in relative idleness. There were camp duties here and there, but most of the fighters wiled away their time on gambling and sport. Piccolo instead spent his spare time conditioning his body. He spent hours on end hitting trees to strengthen his bones, and even more time exercising. Often the only time he spent actually talking to his squad mates was in the messes. Both Prakash and Lal were displeased with this arrangement, yet Abu Bakr did not do anything to change Piccolo's habits.

"He's trying too hard, Lal," Prakash said at one mess loudly enough that the whole squadron could hear it.

"Oh, just shut up about that, Prakash," Abu Bakr yelled from the other end of the low squadron campfire. "Piccolo's doing fine. He needs to get better, and unlike some, he wants to."

"I'm doing just fine, Abu! Both Piccolo and I are strong enough – stronger than you, actually – and I do extra exercise too," Lal interjected. "There's only so much time each of us can actually exercise and gain from it, and he is way past that line."

Ram added, "Last week he didn't show up for latrine duty. We already had enough cleaning to do without having to do his too."

"No one told me we were going to get started an hour before dinner!" Piccolo said.

Abu Bakr calmly said, "Don't get mad, that was Lal's fault. I asked him to get you." He glared at Lal. "And you missed half of the cleanup!"

Lal snorted. "I was doing what you said, but this…"

Prakash held up his hand and said, "What Lal said before. But there's also the factor of cohesion. We're going to be working together, and I'm concerned that he's going to sabotage the mission because he thinks he knows better than us. We all have to respect each other here."

Piccolo said, "Pshhh. Respect? A few seconds ago you were calling me a saboteur!"

"I didn't mean that in the traitor sense, I meant in the sense that…"

"We're going to be in dangerous missions, and I am not going to drag the team down!" Piccolo paused and took a breath. "It's just a little extra practice on the side," he added more composedly.

"Exactly," Abu Bakr said, "He needs to catch up."

"Except you, we're all new recruits. It's like you said yesterday, we aren't going to get hard missions for months," said Prakash. The conversation paused, and everyone dug back into their rice and pulses for a few moments.

Ram said, "I'd like to see him on the Kabbadi team. He has a good throw, and we haven't won a game in a while."

"It's just a game. It couldn't possibly be useful in a mission," Piccolo said.

"See, I'm going to have to disagree with that," Ram said. "In my experience, almost everything is useful to people in our field. Once, when I was serving with the… Mysore army, I was able to put down a rebellion by gambling. See, the fort was surrounded by rebels, and our commander called for a conditional surrender. The rebel army came into the fort, and their leadership delegated the negotiations to one of their members. I started a gambling table with the other rebel leaders, and eventually I had won more money than the entire yearly production of the district we were in. So I said, surrender and you don't owe me anything. And they did."

"Bullshit," Piccolo said.

"Yeah, that's kind of implausible," said Lal.

Prakash said, "Their rebel army didn't owe you anything. Why didn't they keep on fighting? They were about to win the battle, after all."

"Come on, stop lying," Abu Bakr said.

"Don't know what I can do to convince you guys. I'm telling the truth," said Ram. The campfire stayed silent for several minutes afterwards.

Mitesh sat down at the campfire. "You guys have a mission," he said. "I'll brief you in the morning, but basically you'll be accompanying a weapons shipment to Bihar. Meet me after assembly." He walked away, and the campfire stayed quiet until he was out of sight.

Piccolo broke the silence. "See? Mission. We go tomorrow. Prakash, didn't you say it would be 'months'?"

"I said it would be months until we got a hard one. This is a routine assignment."

"How would you know? You've never been on any missions either," Piccolo asked.

"I've been talking to Abu Bakr about this," Prakash said, "and he knows. Abu, can you back me up?"

"Yes, this shouldn't be a very hard assignment," Abu Bakr said. "Unless all of the sudden the Company starts seriously trying to stop us."

"They haven't been?" asked Piccolo.

"Really?" Lal added.

Abu Bakr, Prakash, and Ram burst into laughter. "No, they aren't," Abu Bakr said. "Haven't been for years!"

"I mean, of course they put in an effort and all, but they could put in a much larger effort. Most of the military police have been sent to the war," said Ram.

Prakash said, "With the Burmese war and all, the Company is too strapped for troops to send any against us. Most of the zamindars are loyal to the company, but they don't really help each other out, you know? Once we establish a solid presence in a district, we can entrench without much interference."

"How do you know all this shit? You haven't been here much longer than I have," Piccolo growled.

"I talk to people. You should try it."

"I'm talking right now!" Piccolo said.

Prakash shrugged. "Look, we'll find out more in the morning."

Lal stood up, shook out his legs, and announced, "Squadron D is going to have a game of man-hunt after dinner. I told them I'd be there, so they'll be waiting. Who wants to come?"

Ram and Abu Bakr stood up. "Come on, Prakash, Piccolo!" said Abu Bakr, "It's going to be fun!"

Prakash said, "Sorry. It's been a long day, and I was on watch last night. I need some sleep."

"Me too," Piccolo blurted out.

"You don't sleep," said Ram.

"Well, I…." Piccolo grit his teeth and joined Lal.

At the Squadron D campsite, all of Squadron D and most of C were divided into two teams. With nine people there, it was determined that the Squadron D leader, Prithviraj, would pick teammates first, but that Abu Bakr would get the one remaining after the first six people had been called. Prithviraj first picked Bhagwan, a deer-man with an odd gait. _It's like he's limping… But no, he's not._ Abu Bakr then picked Bhola, a man whom Piccolo recognized as one of the apparently more experienced soldiers in the camp. Prithviraj picked another man, Hira, from his own squadron, and Abu Bakr picked Ram after some heated pointing of fingers and discussion with Prakash. Prithviraj pointed at Piccolo and called his name, leading to some fluster from Abu Bakr. Ram calmed him down, and he swiftly apologized. As the last two players, Lal and the last D squadron man joined Abu Bakr's team. Ram moved to explain the rules of the game to Piccolo, and both captains agreed.

"One team will have a base," Prithviraj said. "The other team will have to try to get at least half of their members to that base, and the other team will be trying to stop them by tagging them."

"But, as we play it, 'tagging' is bringing someone's shoulders to the ground for three seconds. After that happens, they are out of the game and go back to here," Abu Bakr added.

Prithviraj chose a shelter in the back forest as the base. He and Abu Bakr then flipped a coin and determined that Prithviraj's team would be attacking. Subsequently, the defenders retreated to their base, with an agreement that they wouldn't start until sunset.

Once Abu Bakr's team was out of sight, Prithviraj made his team get in a huddle. "We have about half an hour until we attack. They think we're going to start here. So we won't. We'll go all the way around to the back ridge and attack from there. Got it?"

Someone commented, "That's a kilometer away!"

"Yes, so we're going now! Run!"

Ten minutes later, the attackers were all at the back ridge. In order to not set foot in the forests and possibly alert the defenders, they had to go by a longer and much rougher route which slowed them down. Nevertheless, they had twenty minutes left, and they were able to catch their breaths and formulate a plan. Piccolo didn't listen to the roles of the others on the team, but his part was simple and he was able to memorize it. He and Bhagwan would make a mad dash to the defender base through a predetermined path that took several minutes for the two to chart out between the trees. He would start a few seconds after Bhagwan, on the same path. If Bhagwan was waylaid en route, he would intervene, allow Bhagwan to escape, and try to put a good distance between him and the attacker before continuing on the path. After he had worked out his part of the plan, Piccolo spent the rest of the prep time stretching.

The moment the sun fell below the western ridge, Bhagwan dashed off on four legs. Piccolo followed seconds later. The path was almost completely straight, but it was filled with trees. In a stark contrast to Bhagwan's agile bounding through the woods, Piccolo tripped on a root twice and almost ran into a tree once. But each time, Piccolo got up quickly and stayed within visual range of Bhagwan. Soon they were facing the long side of the shelter. It was in one of the clearings, about 20 meters away from the tree line where they had stopped.

"So, if we both touch the walls, we win?" Piccolo said.

Bhagwan said, "Yes, so let's get to it. I was kind of expecting to run into someone on the way… Oh well, I guess it was a good plan."

As if on cue, a series of sounds erupted from the shelter. The banging noise of a large object hitting a wooden roof or floor repeated semi-rhythmically. Piccolo's heat sank as he saw Lal cresting the peaked roof of the shelter. When he got to the top, he yelled, "They're here!"

Piccolo remembered his role out loud, "I'll hold him off! You get to the base! I'll catch up later!"

 _I won't, but if he gets to base, then all it'll take is for someone else to get there and we win._

Bhagwan broke off into a sprint, but the rhinoceros-man took a short running hop from the roof right into the deer-man's path. Bhagwan dove past Lal's feet-first landing and did a front roll, then delivered a donkey kick to Lal's spine. Piccolo reacted a few seconds later and charged at Lal with his fist cocked. He tried to hit Lal in the shoulder, but Lal dodged and punched Piccolo in the face. Lal brought his elbow back sharply to hit Bhagwan, but he ducked under and and jabbed Lal in his armpit. Piccolo lashed out at Lal's shin with his foot, then let loose a flurry of punches. The first two were blocked, but the third landed squarely on his solar plexus, making him recoil and giving Bhagwan the opportunity to spin-kick Lal's thighs.

 _Maybe I can do this! But how do I get him out of my business for enough time to go clear?_

As Piccolo went in for another foot jab, Lal kicked his shin aside and toppled him with an open-handed strike to his sternum. At that moment, Bhagwan broke off and ran for the wall. Piccolo log-rolled away from Lal and jumped up while Lal grabbed Bhagwan by the wrist and yanked him away from the wall. He then kneed Bhagwan in the gut and swept out his legs. Lal lifted the deer-man off the ground, only for Piccolo to hit him in the side with a flying knee. Lal rotated his stance slightly towards Piccolo and stepped back. Piccolo dropped into a lower stance and shot out at Lal's legs, but the rhinoceros-man sprawled as soon as Piccolo wrapped his arms around them, leaving him on top. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bhagwan making a run for it.

 _I just have to hold him off for a time. Still doing my original plan. I can't win; he's too good. But I still succeeded, and that's just good enough._

Piccolo wriggled his torso and posted his left arm, sliding his right around Lal's ankle. He drove his body up with his legs, then circled around Lal until his right leg was hooked around Lal's left. Lal tried to resist, but Piccolo was able to force him down. Lal rolled onto his belly and managed to get to all fours before Piccolo got on top of him.

 _Crap, what do I do from here? Maybe a chop?_

Piccolo chopped at one of Lal's arms and drove him forward. Lal's other arm buckled, then extended explosively, driving his shoulders into Piccolo's face. Piccolo's legs slackened for just enough time for Lal to bring his knee up. Lal came up to a crouch, but Piccolo jabbed Lal's calf with his foot, brought both of his hands to a monkey grip around Lal's stomach, and sprawled back to the ground, crashing Lal down to his butt. Piccolo extended his legs and started circling to Lal's side, but a boot impacted his side and sent him rolling away from Lal. The green man rolled onto his back to see Abu Bakr preparing another sharp kick to his rib cage.

 _Damnit! I was winning, too._

And just as sudden as the shock had begun, it disappeared as Prithviraj brought Abu Bakr down with a flying knee. Abu Bakr tucked into a front roll and sprung back up, but that was all Piccolo saw of the fight, as Lal took the opportunity to pounce on him. He held Piccolo's shoulders down, and struggle as he might, the rhinoceros held him in a position with no leverage whatsoever. Three seconds later, Piccolo was out of the game and could only wait in the shelter. Bhagwan was there; he had managed to touch the wall while Lal was fighting Piccolo. Eventually, Abu Bakr beat Prithviraj by knocking him over and pinning him to the ground. Lal had ranged off into the woods at that point, looking for Hira. Lal did find him, but he got past Lal and made it to the clearing. He took Abu Bakr by surprise, and was almost at the wall when he was blocked. Hira shook the block, however, and continued to reach the wall and win the game.

After cleaning all their wounds and gathering all of the members of Abu Bakr's team that were still in the woods, both squadrons gathered around the D campfire. They cooked some leftover nan and ate and talked with each other until Abu Bakr led his squadron back to the C campground.

"You're pretty good, you know," Lal said. "That was a good fight, could've gone either way."

Piccolo said, "Well, it went the way it did."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Pik. If Abu Bakr didn't come in, who knows what might've happened?"

"Eh, I'm good," Piccolo said with a slight smile.

* * *

The next morning, at assembly, Mitesh did as promised and announced that they would be going on a mission, and that they should meet him in the cottage. Afterwards, C Squadron followed instructions and lined up in front of Mitesh's desk in his office.

"At ease," Mitesh said amusedly.

No one budged.

Mitesh took a deep breath and said, "Alright. First, I sense that many of you are nervous. If you ever feel that way, just remember this. Abu Bakr is one of my best soldiers. I, along with several well-regarded martial instructors, have made him one of the finest warriors in all of Akhand Bharat. You can count on his guidance throughout any mission, especially this one. Because I know most of you are not as skilled as him, I have given you an easy mission for your first one. He should have no trouble. Now, Abu Bakr. Your mission is to get the crate of weapons outside the door to this address in Patna in 15 days." He handed Abu Bakr a sheet of paper. "Besides the address, this paper contains information about some contacts we have in Patna, and about the Patna police force. Now go!" he coughed, "Go for our sacred quest! Do not quit! Do not die! Do not surrender!"

Abu Bakr reached towards Mitesh.

Mitesh continued, "Well, you can actually go whenever you like. But make it soon-ish. Please?"

Squadron C was out the door in no time. "Alright," Abu Bakr said tensely, "we'll go into the armory and load out. Prakash and I will be planning after that, and then we'll get some more supplies for the journey."

The five went into the armory, a relatively dry shed with most of the camp's weapons and supplies, and started pulling weapons off the shelves. Piccolo selected a steel-tipped stick and wooden shield much like what they had practiced with. Ram, on the other hand, took an urumi whip-sword, a tulwar, a silk shield, five bindapala iron darts, and a chakram. Lal took a mace and a buffalo hide shield, Prakash a battle-axe and a pachycephalosaur skull shield. Finally, Abu Bakr took a tulwar and a rhino-hide shield.

Ram, Lal, and Piccolo practiced with their weapons outside until Abu Bakr and Prakash came out, having finished planning. "Patna is 20 days away by foot," Abu Bakr said, "By horse, it's 12. So here's the plan. We'll take all of the weapons out of the crate and put them in saddlebags, to be carried by mules. I think two will be enough. We'll get to Patna by horse, hide out for a few days in one of our contacts' houses, then drop the weapons after dusk and come back here."

"Sounds good," Ram said, "Is it safe to carry weapons openly, or should we hide ours?"

"Patna and the surrounding countryside is basically run by this one Kshatriya, Nitish Kovind, whom the Company has allowed to keep a private army. As well as running protection rackets, smuggling opium to China, and executing people he doesn't like, he puts down riots, sells tax resistors into slavery, and executes rebels. So we'll be able to carry weapons on the way to Patna, but in Patna, they'll have to be concealed."

It took Squadron C another two hours to pack food and supplies and to round up seven horses and mules. Ram and Abu Bakr helped each of the fighters prepare hiding spots among the saddlebags for their weapons. After some brief goodbyes, the squadron embarked on their first mission.


End file.
